Page 30 of Knot Ruined

Yet, despite it all, she looks at me sometimes as if she sees beneath the darkness—as if she could somehow redeem the man I became. I'm selfish enough to want it desperately, greedy enough to take it. I’d destroy worlds to keep her gaze on me, to ensure she never realizes the truth: I don't deserve her. I never did.

But that won't stop me from holding on to her tight enough to bruise. Because without her, I’m nothing but darkness and ashes, a monster lost in the shadows. With her, even a twisted bastard like me can pretend, just for a moment, that I might be worthy of the love she offers.

Kingston

February 18th

11:36 A.M

The moment we step into Fluffed Up, Fallon’s entire face lights up, and it’s everything I could have hoped for.

The store is massive, a warehouse-sized oasis of comfort, with plush displays and soft, inviting colors. The scent of lavender and vanilla lingers in the air, mixing with the faintest hint of fresh linen. Towering shelves are stacked with bedding, blankets, and pillows, while aisles dedicated to candles, bath products, and luxury robes sprawl out in every direction. Everything here is made for omegas, comfort, safety, and nesting.

I squeeze her small, delicate hand in mine, grounding myself in the warmth of her skin as she takes it all in, her wide blue eyes flicking from aisle to aisle like she doesn’t know where to start.

“Alright, little one.” I keep my voice low, indulgent, full of promise. “There’s no limit. Whatever you want.”

She glances up at me, fingers tightening around mine. “I don’t even know where to start.” Before any of us can respond, movement in our periphery makes us pause.

A woman and a man walk toward us, their presence stopping us in our tracks. The beta woman is tiny, almost as small as Fallon, her blonde hair twisted into some intricate updo that looks unnecessarily complicated. Her green dress is fitted and businesslike but softened by the bright expression on her face. Her matching heels click against the polished floors as she picks up speed.

Beside her, the alpha man is built lean, closer to Voss’ frame—compact but coiled with strength. His black hair is buzzed short, his sharp features giving him a no-nonsense look that reminds me of someone accustomed to watching and waiting. His dark eyes flick to us, assessing, before settling on Fallon with obvious familiarity.

“Fallon!” The beta’s voice rings through the store as she rushes forward, throwing her arms around our omega without hesitation.

The man at her side watches her indulgently before nodding at us, his greeting calm and measured. “Hello, Fallon.”

Fallon turns back to us, grinning so brightly it momentarily stuns me. “Guys, this is Callie and Colby—Robert’s pack members.”

Romano tilts his head slightly, searching his memory for the name. A beat later, understanding dawns on his face. “Oh, the omega that works for you?” His tone is casual, but there’s a spark of satisfaction when Fallon beams at him for remembering.

I want that smile turned toward me. I want to keep her looking at me like that.

“Callie, Colby,” Fallon continues, her voice clear and full of pride, “these are my husbands. Kingston, Voss, Romano, and Jace.” The way she says it so effortlessly, so confidently, sends something possessive and primal curling through my chest.

Husbands. I wish she knew we are her mates.

Colby nods, his expression respectful but edged with something protective. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

Callie, still practically vibrating with energy, hugs our omega again. “And Fallon—thank you. Robert told us what happened the other day. I’m glad that woman was arrested.”

Colby’s low growl vibrates through the space, his displeasure clear, but Callie only laughs, resting a hand on his chest before turning back to Fallon. “Speaking of which,” she says, lifting the bag, “we have to head home. Our omega deserves to be pampered.”

After quick goodbyes, I barely have a second to react before Romano steals Fallon from me, laughing as he twirls her toward an entire aisle of sheets. Jace follows behind, already pushing a cart, while Voss and I fall in step behind them like lost fucking puppies. Fallon glides her hands over a row of neatly folded sheets, eyes practically sparkling as she tests the fabric between her fingers.

“Ohh,” she breathes, “these are so soft. Come feel these.”

I don’t hesitate, reaching forward to run my hand over the fabric, noting the way her pupils dilate as she watches my fingers trace the material. We go through at least five or six sets, each softer than the last, and when she hesitates, I step closer, my voice low and firm.

“Get them all.”

She shakes her head, laughing. “You guys are like furnaces. No way would I survive the thick ones.”

Her words settle in my chest, warm and sure. She’s already thinking about sleeping with us. Already assuming she’ll be wrapped up in our heat, in her nest. And fuck me if that doesn’t make my blood run hot. I try subtly to adjust myself, catching Voss silently laughing at me. I flip him off behind Fallon’s back.We are all going to die from being constantly hard around her. I wonder if it’s a mate thing or a Fallon thing.

We move aisle by aisle, watching Fallon run her fingers over every texture, every fabric, testing, feeling, and deciding.

Our cart is already overflowing, piled with layers of plush greens and blues, soft fabrics she keeps pressing against her cheek to test their feel. Every time she finds something she likes, her eyes go soft, her lips curving in satisfaction before she tosses it into the cart.

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